Author's Notes: I didn't manage to get this chapter out as quickly as I would have liked, blame the hyperness and the new TV show that I'm addicted to, lol, but I think it's the quickest that I have updated so far, so yay! This chapter really starts to get intense, so be warned! Heh heh. Enjoy, my wonderful readers. =]
June 4th Pittsburgh - Allegheny General Hospital 1:10pm “So you’re saying that I should have ignored my assignment instructions and just left Jennifer unattended?” Ethan argued, placing his hands on his hips and standing in front of Brian defiantly. “No, you should have done your fucking job properly,” the older man yelled. “Why, in your wildest dreams, would you think it was okay to let Justin go off by himself?” “He wasn’t by himself,” Ethan replied heatedly, still not backing down. “Oh, you’re right,” Brian began, gritting his teeth so that his voice became eerily calm. “He wasn’t on his own, he was with a ‘nurse’.” Ethan watched curiously as the older man paused, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But it wasn’t a nurse was it? It was a fucking kidnapper!” Brian resorted to shouting once more, towering above Ethan threateningly, arms flailing, unable to control his extreme anger. “You wouldn’t have even realised that he’d been kidnapped if I hadn’t shown up!” “There’s nothing unusual about taking an hour to get coffee,” Ethan shrugged, continuing to defend himself. “Any other agent would have done the same thing if they were in my position.” “No, they wouldn’t,” Brian shot back. “And you sure as hell know that I wouldn’t have let Justin out of my sight.” “If anything, you shouldn’t have burdened me with so many God damn assignments,” Ethan declared, taking an uneasy step back, away from Brian, concerned that his last statement may have pushed Special Agent Kinney over the edge. “Don’t you fucking dare try to blame this on me,” Brian hissed, almost too furious to speak. “You called my loft this morning with your ‘do you want a babysitter’ bullshit. I didn’t once give you direct orders to protect Justin. You’re the one that asked and you’re the one that bit off more than he could fucking chew.” “This isn’t my fault,” Ethan protested. “The perps of the kidnap would have gotten to him sooner or later. For whatever reason these people want Justin Taylor in their possession, and it wouldn’t matter whether it was today, tomorrow, or next week, they would have kept trying. You can’t blame me for this, Brian.” “Well, I don’t see anyone else around here that could have prevented this fuck up from happening,” Brian retorted, gesticulating to the surrounding empty hospital corridor. He could see that there was probably some truth to what Ethan had said, but he knew that if Justin had been under his protection this most certainly wouldn’t have happened. “But-” Ethan began, but swallowed his words when Brian shot him a look, hazel eyes flashing with an intensity that made the younger agent feel as though he might melt under the furious gaze. Unable to stand being in the presence of someone that may have been the inadvertent cause of harm to Justin, Brian set off down the corridor, Gucci footsteps reverberating on the disinfected floor tiles. “I want all of the surveillance tapes from hospital security transferred to the Field Office and the footage analysed,” he called over his shoulder. “Every single frame. Understand?” “Yes,” Ethan replied, somewhat bewildered from the berating that he had just received. “And don’t fuck it up,” Brian added, before disappearing around a corner and out of Ethan’s sight. Pittsburgh - Unknown Location 1:25pm Head leaning haphazardly against Cody’s lap and the rest of his lifeless body sprawled along the filthy backseat of the car, Justin remained unconscious, completely unaware that with every second that passed, he was being driven further and further away from safety. Cody absentmindedly stroked the blond’s hair out of his face as he stared out of the window, watching for the police, FBI, or any sign at all that they were being followed. “What did you give him anyway?” The brusque voice of the car’s driver jolted Cody from his thoughts. “He’s looks like he’s pretty fucking out of it.” “I slipped some gamma hydroxy butyrate into his coffee,” Cody replied, watching the driver in the rear-view mirror. Seeing a look of confusion pass over the man’s face, Cody decided that he probably needed to explain further. “That’s GHB to you, Chris.” “Good to know,” the man stated, not really caring, and trying to concentrate on the road. “With the amount I gave him, he should be asleep for a long fucking time,” Cody announced proudly. “I didn’t even think he’d drink all of the coffee.” “Just as long as you know what you’re doing,” Chris sighed, bored with Cody’s irritating self-importance. “You were supposed to look at this faggot’s list of allergies, but you didn’t.” “I never received a list of allergies,” Cody retorted. “Lee got shot by the fucking FBI when he tried to get it from the Taylor’s house.” “I never did like Clarky,” Chris laughed flippantly. Cody rolled his eyes, and the pair continued to ride in silence, occasionally meeting each others’ gaze in the mirror. Neither of them liked the others’ company in the slightest, and they were only together because that’s what the terms of the job had specified. Chris Hobbs was an unapologetically obvious and ruthless homophobe, violently fixed on ridding the world of any fags that may dwell within it, so being paired with out and proud Cody was the closest thing to his worst nightmare. Chris would have even gone as far as to question Cody’s right to be part of this job, but he knew, like everyone else in their dark and sinister business, that Cody Bell was a highly skilled and talented professional, even if he did like to suck cock. Also, the pay was to simply too good for either of them to turn down this job opportunity, so, for now, they were both stuck with each other. Cody was about to make the purposefully annoying remark of ‘are we there yet?’, when he noticed Justin move slightly. At first, he thought that he had imagined it, but when the blond moved again and made a small choking sound deep in his throat, Cody began to worry that the blond was waking up. Suddenly, Justin began to gasp and cough violently, his entire body convulsing with the sheer power. “Fuck!” Cody hissed, holding Justin’s torso down in an attempt to try and control the shaking blond. “Chris, pull over!” “I can’t pull over! We’re on the fucking freeway!” Chris shouted back. “We need someplace to stop. Now!” Cody demanded, sure that Justin was having some sort of allergic reaction to the drugged coffee and that he would be vomiting some time in the not so distant future. “Brian?” Justin quietly gasped, in between coughing fits, eyelids fluttering, unable to find the energy to keep them open. “Please... Brian?” “Quickly!” Cody barked, over the noise of Justin’s loud coughing, as the car turned into a dusty side road. Chris hastily pulled over, stopping the car just as Cody threw open the door and dragged a semi-conscious Justin with him out on to side of the road. “Well, help me then!” Cody yelled to Chris, who hadn’t moved from his seat. “What do expect me to do?” the brunet called out of the car window. “I‘m not exactly Florence Nighting-” Chris was cut off by the sound of Justin retching. “Chris, you fucking pussy, get your ass out here!” Cody ordered, holding Justin’s limp form as he vomited. “There’s no way I’m helping you with AIDS-ridden faggot puke,” Chris replied adamantly, watching as Cody held Justin’s shoulders, supporting the kneeling blond as he heaved. Cody would have retaliated to Chris’s infuriatingly homophobic remark, but his attention was completely taken up by the deathly pale and continuously vomiting blond that he currently held tightly in his arms. The spasms of nausea ripped through Justin’s trembling body with a cruel persistence, even after his stomach was completely empty and there was nothing left for him to throw up. Eventually, the blond became so exhausted that he stopped gagging and began to hyperventilate, his breathing coming in short and frightened gasps. Noticing that Justin was about to pass out, Cody swiftly pulled the blond back against his body before the younger man could collapse forward. He rolled Justin on to his side, away from the puddle of half digested, GHB-spiked coffee, and stroked the distressed blond’s tear-streaked face until his breathing evened out and returned to normal. “Where am I?” Justin choked out after a while, the haze of semi-consciousness beginning to clear now that most of the drugs were out of his system. “Cody, is that you? What the fuck’s going on?” “You told him your name?” Chris spat in disbelief. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Cody retorted. “He asked me what it was.” “Just get him back in the fucking car,” Chris instructed. “Who’s that?” Justin asked sleepily, trying to stand up. His throat burned, and his body ached, as he slowly got to his feet, trying to work out where he was, and more importantly, why he was there instead of the hospital. “Don’t worry, he’s no one,” Cody replied, trying to distract the blond’s attention away from Chris by helping him get to his feet. “Justin, you have to get back in the car.” “Why?” Justin slurred, almost falling over in his still partially drugged confusion. “Because we said so,” Chris stated, striding towards the blond and grabbing him roughly. “Cody, get that rope from the trunk.” Cody begrudgingly did as he was told, and made his way back to the car. “Get the fuck off me!” Justin shouted, trying, even in his weakened state, to fight the aggressive stranger off. In amongst the furious struggling, Justin managed to land one good punch on Chris’s face, taking him completely by surprise. Pre-occupied with the pain, Chris relinquished his strong grip on the blond, letting Justin fall to the ground. The panicked blond landed heavily on his knees, but got up quickly, knowing that he had to run as far away from this terrifying asshole as he could. “You little fucker!” Chris roared, tearing after Justin. He caught up with the fatigued blond easily, tackling Justin from behind and savagely dragging him downwards, dust billowing all around them. “Help!” Justin tried to scream, but no sooner had the word left his mouth, then he felt severe pain radiating from his abdomen and chest, completely knocking the oxygen from his lungs. He looked up desperately to find Chris brutally kicking him over and over again. The pain was so unrelenting and overwhelming, that all Justin could do was lay there and take it, curling in to a ball as much as was physically possibly to protect himself. He wanted to beg this man to stop, but every powerful kick stole his breath, so he could barely inhale a full lungful of air, let alone plead his crazed attacker for mercy. The terror of feeling so incredibly awful from just puking his drug infested guts out, combined with the complete and utter confusion of why the fuck this was happening to him, almost drove Justin to tears as he lay helplessly on the floor, getting the shit kicked out of him. He vaguely heard a shout of, “Chris, what the fuck are you doing?”, followed by the harsh reply of, “Shutting this faggot up.”, before the swift crack of a shoe to the sutured wound in his head made his vision blur until everything went dark and he passed out. Pittsburgh - Allegheny General Hospital 1:40pm Brian held his FBI I.D. badge up to the window of the jail ward’s secure entrance, and tapped impatiently on the reinforced glass. “Yes?” the desk clerk asked, looking up from her computer. “I’m Special Agent Brian Kinney,” the brunet replied. “I’m here to speak with one of the patients.” “You’ll have to sign in, and then I’ll buzz you through,” the clerk informed him, pushing a clipboard and pen through the small gap in the glass. Brian quickly scribbled the required information down on the form and passed the clipboard back to the desk clerk. The woman read over his answers before pressing a button under her desk, opening the first of two doors for Brian. “Says here that you’ve got one concealed weapon?” the desk clerk said. “That’s right,” Brian stated dryly, quickly pulling back his suit jacket to reveal the handgun at his belt, annoyed that this entrance process in to the jail ward was taking so long. “Okay.” The desk clerk leant forward, as if to inspect the weapon, and noted some information down on the form. “You can go right ahead.” The woman pressed another button, and the second door gradually slid open, accompanied by a loud buzzing sound. Brian swiftly walked through, not pausing to thank the desk clerk, and headed directly to where he could see one of his colleagues standing. “He in there?” Brian gruffly asked the agent, bypassing the normal pleasantries of conversation. Taken aback by Special Agent Kinney’s abruptness, the bewildered agent simply nodded, sidestepping out of the taller man’s way and allowing him access to the door of Kip Thomas’ hospital room. Brian wasted no time in striding in to the room, letting the door swing open with a dramatic bang. “I already told you, I’m not saying-” Kip began, but stopped when he saw that it was Brian, and not one of the agents or police officers that had been guarding his room. “Hello, Kip,” Brian announced, his mouth curling in a fake and contemptuous smile. “Oh, it’s you,” Kip stated, “The motherfucker who shot me.” “Yeah, the motherfucker who shot you.” Brian repeated Kip’s harsh words back to him, showing the man that they had no effect on him whatsoever. “How’s that going for you by the way?” “What do you want?” Kip fired back, unwilling to answer Brian’s sarcastic questions. “Let’s start with, why did you try to kidnap Justin Taylor?” Brian replied, his voice slightly raised. “What makes you think I’d tell you anything?” Kip turned his back on the agent. “Because,” Brian grabbed the man’s shoulder, forcing Kip to look at him, “I can stop your pain medication any time I want.” “You think I give a fuck?” Kip tried to get out of Brian’s grasp, but it proved difficult since his arms were handcuffed to the bed. “Well, let’s just see,” Brian turned to leave, giving Kip one last smug smile. “You deserve everything that’s happening to you, Kinney!” Kip suddenly yelled. “What would you know about what’s happening to me?” Brian rushed back to the side of the bed, threateningly looming over Kip and grabbing him by the neck of his hospital gown. “You deserve it, Kinney” Kip laughed, almost maniacally. “You deserve everything that’s going to happen to you, you piece of shit.” “Start making sense!” Brian shouted in Kip’s face, shaking him roughly. Kip leaned forward, still continuing to laugh, looked Brian right in the eye, and spat at the FBI agent. Reeling back, Brian let go of the man, and allowed him to drop back against the bed. He hastily wiped at the thick blob of saliva that ran down his cheek, face fixed in an expression of absolute disgust and loathing. “You better start talking,” Brian gritted out, walking toward the man once more, but keeping a safe distance from Kip’s bed so that he wasn’t within spitting range. “Fuck off,” Kip retorted. “I’m going to give you one more chance,” Brian began only to be cut off by Kip’s antagonistic laughter once more. Too infuriated to continue with the interrogation, and knowing that he wasn’t going to get any more coherent information out of the obviously psychotic Kip, Brian quickly exited the room, leaving the smirking man behind him. “Cut off his morphine,” Brian ordered the agent outside the door. “And if he says anything, anything, radio the Field Office.” “Yes, sir,” the man replied hastily, not quite sure what had happened in the hospital room with Kip, but knowing enough to assume that he shouldn’t argue with Special Agent Kinney. Brian nodded his thanks at the man and set off toward the jail ward’s exit, needing to get out of this vexatious place as soon as possible. As he waited for the desk clerk to open the security doors once more, Brian contemplated what Kip had actually meant by ‘you deserve everything that’s happening to you’. He decided, since nothing bad had happened to him personally, on this case, that he should probably dismiss it, putting it down to a poor attempt, of a psychologically unstable man, to provoke some kind of reaction from him. Brian was just annoyed that he’d allowed this Kip Thomas to get under his skin, when usually he wouldn’t have given the man’s comment a second thought. Exiting the second door, Brian left the oppressive jail ward, hoping that he wouldn’t have to return there in a hurry, and set off down the long hospital corridor. As the FBI agent made his way to the parking lot, he still had the nagging feeling that something was wrong, even though he couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. Not liking the confusion that this feeling left him with, Brian tried to rationalize it, telling himself that his anxiousness was simply caused by the circumstances of Justin’s kidnapping. It had been nearly three hours since the blond had disappeared and Brian knew, like any other well-trained law enforcer, that the longer Justin remained in the custody of the kidnapper, or kidnappers, the greater the risk to his life became. Reaching his jeep, Brian swiftly pulled the door open and got in, giving himself a moment to think. He slammed the door closed loudly, wanting to completely shut himself off from the world and closed his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to come up with a successful Justin-finding strategy, however, the distressing notion that this whole situation was his fault kept creeping its way in to his thoughts. Maybe he should have known better than to leave Justin with Ethan. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so fucking selfish. Maybe Kip was telling the truth, and the perpetrators of the kidnap were trying to get to him by getting to Justin. Maybe after ridiculous and nonsensical maybe circled Brian’s mind, getting him angrier and angrier until finally, Brian couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Fuck!” he yelled, at the top of his lungs, punching the steering wheel with a fist curled hand. Shocked by his sudden outburst, Brian leant back in his seat, breathing heavily and trying to calm himself down. Eventually regaining composure, the FBI agent vehemently decided that he needed to put all of his frustration in to finding Justin, because he was no good to anyone on this case, especially himself, if he couldn’t keep his temper in check. Taking a few more deep breaths, Brian placed his keys in the ignition and turned the engine over. He was going to do everything in his power to get Justin back, and nothing was going to get in his way. Pittsburgh - Unknown Location 4:45pm In amongst his half-conscious daze, Justin suddenly became aware that he could hear someone quietly groaning. He tried to open his eyes to see what was going on, but as a small amount light streamed in to his partially exposed pupils, his head throbbed with such an unbearable intensity that he had to close them again. As Justin slowly lifted his hands to rub the burning sensation away from his swollen and bruised eyes, he was met with a strange resistance, which prevented his arms from moving another inch. Wrenching his arms upwards with the little strength that he had left, Justin discovered that his wrists were tied down with thick rope to whatever he was currently lying on. After weakly moving his legs and finding that they were in the same predicament, the blond resolved to lie still, conserving his energy. Temporarily blinded and unable to move because of the pain and the restraints, Justin relied on the few senses that he had left to try and answer some of the questions that were tearing around his mind. Taste and smell were considerably useless to him at the moment, so he chose to focus on what he could feel and hear. In amongst the absolute silence, his ears noticed, once again, what appeared to be the pitiful groaning of an injured person, reverberating all around him. It was only when he swallowed, trying to quench the unbearable thirst in his throat, that Justin realised the heartbreaking sound belonged to him. “Cody? Brian? Please, someone,” he choked out, only to be answered by the sinister echoing of his own broken voice. Tears ran down his pale cheeks, and sobs shook his body as Justin slowly began to realise that he was trapped, and if what happened to him earlier was any indication, he was in for a truly horrific time. Trying to ignore his fear-ridden thoughts, Justin concentrated more on what he could feel, although it proved to be just as hideous. His entire body throbbed with a bruised, aching sensation which pulsed along with his heart beat causing the coarse ropes at his wrists and ankles to dig in to his skin, tearing and scratching at the delicate flesh. He could also feel that the stitches on his forehead had been ripped open, leaving the wound to bleed freely, a steady trickle of blood running in an unpleasant trail down the side of his face. But the most painful thing for Justin, worse than all of his physical symptoms was the fact that he was imprisoned and helpless. “Please, somebody. Anybody?” Justin cried, his voice slightly amplified by the hiccoughing of his sobs, but still barely more than a whisper because his throat was so agonizingly raw. Desperate for some kind of reassurance, the blond tried to open his eyes once more, only to be greeted with another overwhelming twinge of pain that shot straight through his head making him yell out in agony. When the cruel pain had finally blurred in to a dull ache, Justin resolved not to move again unless it was absolutely necessary. All he could do was lie there, tied down, body aching and all glimmers of hope slowly drifting away in to the menacing darkness. Plagued by terrifying thoughts of being beaten, raped, tortured and murdered, Justin fell in to a fitful sleep, too exhausted to go on any longer. Pittsburgh - Babylon 11:20pm The thumpa-thumpa of music and men washed over Brian, giving him the blissful release of tension that he’d been craving all day. He strode out on to the dance floor, getting swept up in the liberation and casually snorted a bump, letting his eyes flutter with the euphoric feeling that descended over him. “Brian, if you’re not careful someone from the bureau will see you doing that shit one day, and God knows what kind of a mess you’ll be in,” Michael warned. “Christ, Mikey, you are so fucking pathetic,” Brian chastised his annoying but devoted best friend. “I don’t know what the hell happened to you today, but I dropped everything come here, so don’t give me any shit,” Michael retorted when Brian threw a friendly arm over his shoulder. “I was meant to be spending a quiet night in with Ben.” “Well, I suppose it was inevitable,” Brian replied mysteriously, casually leaning against the shorter man so that their hair and the side of their faces touched. “What was inevitable?” Michael asked, looking up at his friend curiously. “That you’d become a kept woman.” “Fuck you,” Michael laughed, removing Brian’s arm from his shoulder and taking a step back. “Just because Ben doesn’t want me partying until God knows what time in the morning, doesn’t make me a kept woman.” “You keep telling yourself that, Mikey,” Brian teased, patting Michael’s head patronizingly. “So, what was the big emergency anyway?” Michael asked, the tone of his voice slightly more serious than before. “Is there something you need to tell me?” “Christ, I need a drink,” Brian announced, completely ignoring Michael’s question and looking in the direction of the bar. “Brian?” Michael frowned, easily seeing through the taller man’s avoidance technique. “Look, it’s nothing. Let’s just get a drink, okay?” Brian shrugged, steering Michael through the sea of sweaty, dancing male bodies, towards the bar. “Two beers,” he called to one of the bartenders, leaning on the illuminated counter and gesticulating with his middle and index fingers. “You call me, practically beg me to come to Babylon with you, and you won’t even tell me what’s wrong,” Michael grumbled, taking a small sip from the beer that had just been placed in front of him. “I had a shit day at work, that’s all, now let it go,” Brian growled, teeth clenched, signalling to Michael that any further discussion of the current subject wouldn’t be tolerated. Michael continued to drink his beer in silence, occasionally stealing a glance at Brian out of the corner of his eye, trying to work out what the hell had pissed his best friend off so much. “So, how was work, dear?” Brian eventually asked, his voice considerably softer when he noticed, with his expert eye for detail, that Michael kept looking warily in his direction. “Kinda slow,” Michael admitted. “Some kid asked me if I had an issue twenty three Spiderman. Issue twenty three! You can’t even find that on eBay. Can you believe it?” “No, I can’t,” Brian replied half-heartedly, distracted by a cute and definitely fuckable guy on the dance floor. “Brian? Are you even listening to me?” Michael huffed, folding his arms. “Mikey, you know how I love to hear your wondrous tales of comic book store ownership, but right now, there’s something I’ve gotta do. You can tell me all about Superman when I get back,” Brian reassured, tapping the shorter man on the arm and heading out, back in to the crowd. “It’s Spiderman, and where the fuck are you going? We just got here,” Michael shouted after his best friend. “I have some business that I need to attend to,” Brian replied, not turning back, his predatory sight completely set on the muscled target in front of him. “Brian,” Michael called one last time, trying to attract his friend’s attention, but knowing all too well that he was being ignored. His face was set in a rejected scowl as he watched the lust-consumed Brian whisper a few choice and magical words in to the well-built trick’s ear. The pair swiftly made their way to the backroom, Brian leading the trick by the belt loops in his pants, for the first blowjob, of many, that he would be receiving from more than willing mouths that evening. Michael sighed, taking a large gulp of his beer and shaking his head in disappointment and something that almost felt like sympathy for his best friend. Judging by Brian’s less than cheery mood, and the vast amount of pain management that he obviously required, Michael realized that he was in for a long and lonely night.